


The Shape of Blancmange and Things to Come

by MoonyGolightly



Category: Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell (TV)
Genre: M/M, Queerplatonic Relationships, honeyfoot and segundus are just adorable
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-12
Updated: 2015-11-12
Packaged: 2018-05-01 07:47:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5197940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoonyGolightly/pseuds/MoonyGolightly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From this Dreamwidth kinkmeme: http://jsmn-kinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/1273.html?thread=8185#cmt8185 Honeyfoot and Segundus basically being adorable and queerromantic with each other, including milk pudding and walnut-filled blunderbusses.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The first few hours are, as Mr Honeyfoot puts it, 'a little difficult'. Once Stephen has left, Lady Pole begins to scream in earnest, using language that makes Mr Segundus's ears turn a delicate shade of pink. Mr Honeyfoot, having lived long enough to have encountered such a rich vocabulary in others, is the first of them to brave going in.  
  
"My Lady, would you care for some tea?"  
  
Lady Pole glowers at him. "Untie me."  
  
Mr Honeyfoot shakes his head. "I'm sorry, my lady, but you might do yourself harm." He casts a quick glance at the leather cuffs: still tightly-fastened, but he still doesn't trust them against such prolonged anger such as hers. The leather begins to strain again as she tries, again, to escape, and when she starts cursing at him he makes a small, polite bow and leaves the room. Mr Segundus is waiting outside, looking wide-eyed and anxious, still with that endearing pink tinge to his ears. Mr Honeyfoot gives him a wry smile and sinks into a spare wheeled chair.  
  
"Anything?"  
  
"Only that I should poison the tea, that she or I could drink it and then at least she'd have a little peace."  
  
"Ah." Mr Segundus thinks for a moment and begins to pace across the floor of the hallway. Mr Honeyfoot enjoys watching him think: not only is the look of severe concentration most unusual on a face that usually radiates a genuine optimism and excitement with the world, but Mr Segundus also rumples his hair from time to time, providing Mr Honeyfoot with a vicarious enjoyment, without any sadness for the sparse grey strands covering his scalp.  
  
Mr Segundus stops pacing and turns to his friend. "Perhaps, my dear fellow, you would be so kind as to see if cook has anything, ah, tempting in the way of encouraging our guest's appetite. I would go myself, but, ah..." he trails off and looks a little embarrassed.   
  
Mr Honeyfoot smiles, knowing full well that Mr Segundus couldn't find the kitchen if he were given a map and a guide. "I will go and see what I can find," he replies, getting up from his chair and giving Segundus a gentle pat on the arm as he leaves.  
  
Cook, it turns out, has some quince jelly and hazelnuts, so Mr Honeyfoot takes a sampling of both of these on a tray and returns triumphantly. Mr Segundus beams. "Capital! Thank you, my dear."  
  
Mr Honeyfoot smiles and returns to the wheeled chair. "I wish you luck," he says, nodding at the door and hoping that luck will indeed be with his friend in the second attempt to placate Lady Pole.  
  
Mr Segundus comes back out of Lady Pole's room in under a minute, at a rather faster pace than he had entered. His clean, white doctor's apron is spattered in the quince jelly and before he closes the door completely several hazelnuts are pelted at him. One of them hits Mr Honeyfoot, who had sprung up from his chair as soon as he heard the crashes. "What on earth -?" he starts, but Segundus interrupts him.  
  
"She managed to get one hand loose," he says, gesturing at his ruined apron and, when he sees Mr Honeyfoot's gaze directed to the rip in his shirtsleeve, adds, "she also tried to bite me. It's all right, my dear, it's just a scrape." He looks slightly mournful. "I do wish that it hadn't been this particular shirt, however. I rather liked this shirt."  
  
Mr Honeyfoot has no interest in clothes apart from that they are of a reasonable cut and cost, in keeping with the general fashion of the time. However, Segundus - his friend - is upset and even if it is over a shirt, Mr Honeyfoot will not stand for anyone, even a Lady, upsetting his friend. Leaving Segundus to wipe the worst of the jelly from himself, he opens the door and marches inside it, just as Lady Pole is beginning to unpick the cuff on her other wrist.


	2. Chapter 2

At least she has the good grace to stop, even if it is only to glower at Mr Honeyfoot as he crosses the room. The shards of the bowl of jelly are on the other side of the room and being pelted with hazelnuts will hardly cause any damage to his person, assuming she even still has some of them in her hand; he stops just out of arm’s reach, for the moment.

“My lady, my friend and I are entirely willing to take care of you here, but if you insist on attempting to physically harm either of us then I’m afraid we will have no option but to refuse the duty of your care and send you to - Bedlam.” Mr Honeyfoot almost stutters on the last word. Even in Yorkshire, the place is spoken of with a mixture of horror and fascination.

“If you are trying to frighten me into submission, sir, I have been to a far worse place than Bedlam,” Lady Pole retorts. Her hands twist together in her lap and Mr Honeyfoot readies himself to dodge any small missiles - perhaps he will duck behind the bed should she turn out to be a surprisingly good shot.

Thinking of the bed gives him an idea and, having heard of the event that brought her to them and her reaction to being subdued, Mr Honeyfoot sighs heavily and says, “Perhaps, madam, we should sedate you until you are more agreeable - or until a carriage and horses can be ready to take you away. I will ask Mr Segundus to measure out some laudanum.” He hates himself for the look of wide-eyed horror Lady Pole gives him, but shows no sign of relenting. “That is settled, then.”

He turns as if to leave, trying his best to look like the sort of man who intends to subject her to what, it seems, is a form of torture for her. It takes him but one step towards the door before he hears her quietly mutter, “please”.

“Yes, my lady?” He finds his tone revolting and silently vows to find out her favourite things to eat, then charm cook into producing them.

Lady Pole looks smaller and paler. “Please, don’t make me go to sleep. I - I apologise for how I treated Mr Segundus, and you, sir, and - if I could only make you understand. A weaver once wove a carpet of five hundred different colours, and when he spread it on his floor a dozen birds of paradise flew from each corner, and the weaver - .” She stops and turns paler. She looks up at Mr Honeyfoot with dark-lidded, tear-filled eyes. “Forgive me. That is not what I meant to say.”

A few minutes later, it is Mr Segundus’s turn to get up from the chair as his friend lets himself out of Lady Pole’s room, closing and locking the door securely. Mr Honeyfoot looks deeply troubled and Mr Segundus cannot help but go to put his arms around his friend, who returns the embrace with a quick squeeze before letting go and pinching the sides of his nose very sharply. “She has calmed herself,” he says heavily. “I have left her restrained.”

Segundus nods. “I thought perhaps in a while we might offer her a little beef tea, or something similarly nourishing. She looks far too pale to be able to keep her strength up.”

“Indeed,” says Mr Honeyfoot, beginning to walk along the hall towards the kitchens - or rather, towards the general area where Mr Segundus believes the kitchens to be. “Perhaps I will also ask cook to make a shape of blancmange - her ladyship said it is a dish which she particularly enjoys.” He turns and gives his friend a small smile. “I will retire to my room for a short while before dinner, I think. I have a slight headache.” The lie is a small one, but it pains Mr Honeyfoot to make his friend look so worried. “I am sure it will pass with a rest,” he adds assuringly.

Mr Segundus nods. “I too have some things to think about,” he replies, but makes no further explanation. To attempt to describe the roses he has seen at both their guest’s and Stephen’s mouths may, in turn, give him something of a headache, at least for the moment. Mr Honeyfoot nods and goes in search of cook, to order dinner and the shape. He also resolves to question Stephen at his next visit upon any other delicacies which may begin to make recompense for his manipulation of Lady Pole.


End file.
